The Eyestones
by viicious
Summary: This was going to be a game, but I'd rather make it into a story. It's a FFTA sequel type thing with bits from FFT and FFT12, and other FF lore included. The story of three young people caught in a war over objects called eyestones.
1. Prologue

**I**n a tiny village, a baby was found abandoned near a man's house. This man took in the boy as his own, called him son, and owned him. When he grew, he was a clever, wild child, best friends with the sweet girl and smart aleck boy in town. Unbeknownst to them, they were also the saviours of the Amalgamated Ivalice Boundaries, but that has yet to happen. The event that would start it all is the savage assault of the tiny village by the Tredjodorian army.

**I**t began late in the day, almost evening, while Rouchea had been creating weapons with his mentor. After a full day of playing with Rza and Lakrat, doing work was most expected. Though Rouchea hardly hated it, he loved playing with his friends. All was quiet until a holler arose out beyond the edge of grass field and the screams began. Rouchea's mentor ran out of the small home to find all ablaze and blood flying. He rushed back in and locked everything, sweeping up Rouchea into the pit of the house. Rouchea called out to his friends.

"**R**za! Lakrat! Daddy, we have go get them!"

**B**ut his mentor hid themselves, not fearing their lives, but rather, wishing the war and bloodshed and suffering would fall away in their midst. When an hour long had past, they arose and assessed the damage. Homes were broken or burnt to the ground, people lying everywhere. Even Rouchea's mentor could not look and they hid their eyes together until all were buried rightfully. Rouchea began his search for his mates. He called through the square for Lakrat and Rza. Lakrat was first to arrive with his parents in tow. They hardly looked hurt at all; his mother had a horrible gash, but it was all. Together, Lakrat and Rouchea called for Rza, and alas, they found her hiding behind what used to be her house.

**W**hat remained was nothing but a black foundation and piles of ash and pieces of metal that used to be their utensils. Rza was the worse of the wear, completely shocked, though fresh tears ran the length of her face. They wished her to tell them what was wrong, but even as they as asked they knew what had happened.

**H**er parents had perished.

**I**n the end, Rza had disappeared from the small village, and Lakrat and Rouchea were certain they'd never see her again. With their lives stable, but a huge piece ripped off, they did what they thought would compensate for her loss: joined an anti-war faction. If anything, they believed it would keep what happened to Rza from whomever they helped. They hardly knew it, but they were about to come together once again to bring peace to the edge of Ivalice.

**B**ut all fruits of success must also bear trials and tribulations.


	2. Chapter 1

**T**he Black Faction, a not-for-profit peace group, were amongst the most popular of factions. There were many factions that were created, but none so professional or active as the Black Faction, which is what Rouchea and Lakrat joined as a compensation to Rza's loss. At the time, they were amongst some of the higher ranking parties due to their tough work toward the Black Faction's missions. It was the most recent mission that the threads of their fate and Rza's began to retwine.

**R**ouchea and Lakrat's leader called his group, Black Down, over for a meeting. No other groups knew of it, as though it was a cult gathering, and most of Black Down's members were nervous to know whether it meant the end of their purpose and work in the Black Faction. Hidden in the depths of the Black Faction's headquarters, the Black Down awaited at the head table, worried. The walls were drenched in black paint and drapes, but there were long paintings of the past leaders of the Black Faction. As long as the Black Faction has been around, there weren't very many portraits on the walls. They knew the reason for this, however: with such a good repertoire of leadership skills and intelligence, it was obvious why.

**W**hen their leader entered the room, however, he smiled at them all and reassured them that they weren't in trouble or being discharged. They all sighed in relief, but were still confused about this special meeting. When their leader sat, he was quiet for a moment, pondering how best to word the situation.

"**W**e've got a sort of special mission ahead," he told them, "and I'm choosing Black Down for it, as I trust you so."

**R**ouchea and Lakrat looked to each other, wondering if the mission had to do with the main area of Ivalice, which is where the Black Faction tried to avoid, due to such a large span of land and the severe problems involved with it.

"**A**nother peace faction was trying to free a city under Tredjodorian control, and are having some trouble. The strange thing about this S.O.S. is that they said the city is small. Why they're controlling it is very strange. Also, they have a prisoner of war."

**O**ne of the Black Down members piped up, asking, "Why did they take a prisoner? They hardly ever do that."

"**T**hat is the strangest part. They only recruit Tredjordors and only kill resisters. It's very odd..."

**I**t was Lakrat who spoke what Rouchea was thinking.

"**W**ould this actually have anything to do with the Amalgamated Ivalice Boundaries?" Even though Lakrat was trying not to sound rude, it still came out the same. Many people had told Lakrat about wearing his feelings on his sleeves, but even after trying to hide it all, Lakrat still didn't believe the human spirit ought to be cramped up like that. "After all, I was certain that the Black Faction was only interested in the small border regions."

**T**heir leader gave Lakrat a knowing look, but it didn't cut Lakrat down in pride. He was firm, even if his question was out of place.

"**T**his is the catch, Black Down," he told them earnestly, "Part of the war that the Tredjodors have been causing is in the mainland of Ivalice. We believe this single prisoner of war is an important official in Ivalice, otherwise the Tredjodors wouldn't be interested. They are probably keeping this person as a means of victory in case everything else in their arsenal has failed."

**L**akrat and Rouchea looked to each other in interest, wondering if the Tredjodors were even going to lose at all. They seemed to continue to grow and become fiercer as the days progressed. Their leader passed out files on their next target, the terrain, and where the prisoner was probably kept. Reading it, the Black Down couldn't help but feel something was very out of place about the Tredjodors latest actions. With a few more words, the leader dismissed the Black Down and they dispersed, getting ready for the trek and battle the next day.

* * *

**L**ater that night, Rouchea and Lakrat, along with their roommates, sat around their tiny meal table and tried not to talk about the mission. The Tredjodors were bad enough as it was; if they had some sinister plan underneath their erratic behaviour, chances were the Boundaries were about to get much worse. Despite its oddness, Rouchea still secretly wished it wasn't and that the Tredjodors were finally petering out and not having enough force to take on the much larger cities. Ivalice's involvement only made it worse; all of Ivalice's current problems would be filing down to the Boundaries through the Tredjodors.

**A**fter their dinner, they went to their respective bunks and as the lights went out, Rouchea signaled to Lakrat to join him in the washroom. When they sneaked in after the other two had fallen asleep, Rouchea lit a small candle so they could do themselves the favour of not talking to darkness. Rouchea tried to resist speaking about the mission, but he knew Lakrat was thinking about it, too.

"**I** keep having doubts about the Tredjodors," Rouchea whispered to Lakrat, whose eyebrow rose.

"**Y**ou mean, like, their involvement with Ivalice?" he asked.

"**N**o, their strength. It's true they've been a pretty strong force, but the attacking of those small cities just seems so... out of place."

"**S**o you think they don't have any secret plan going on? I think they're sneaky enough to do it..."

"**T**hey seem like they would," Rouchea told him, thinking with his hand on his chin, "But don't you think those anti-war muckrakers would've been able to get something by now?"

**I**t took Lakrat a moment to think, too, but he finally agreed Rouchea was right. The tabloids that were released in the Boundaries and the edges of Ivalice all had some dirt on the Tredjodors, but it seemed sudden that they avoided talking about the Tredjodors' strange acts. "Yeah, you're right. Maybe they're just losing perspective."

**L**akrat shrugged when Rouchea gave him a look that asked for more. Lakrat blew out the candle and they left the washroom, wary of the roommates. They, however, were still sleeping, and Rouchea and Lakrat climbed into their bunks and sleeplessly awaited the morrow.


	3. Chapter 2

**A**s the smoke and fire erupted, they ran beyond the veil it temporarily created and weren't seen by the Tredjodors who carried him out. Far enough away, they looked back to see his limp body being carried carelessly. They knew he was dead; no other expression of blankness or serenity could compare. He was gone, but his wish would be carried on through them. Rza didn't cry like Rouchea and Lakrat thought, but she suddenly felt at loss again.

**But before that...** They found him stuffed inside a stone room, bleeding and bruised, hungry and tired. Rza first ran to him and attempted to heal him, but he didn't want any saviours. They wondered what his purpose to the Tredjodors was, but he managed to answer it in the form of his introduction.

"**I** am terribly sorry for my appearance. I am Luin Moryah, son of King Ruc Moryah, prince of Ilias."

**R**ouchea kneeled beside Rza, Lakrat come closer toward Luin. They saw that his leg was in the improper shape that it should be, and knew it was broken. His body was shaking, though he still tried to uphold proper etiquette. Rza was trying very much to heal his wounds, chanting low and slowly, a white light humming gently beneath her hands.

"**S**o that's why the Tredjodors want you so badly," remarked Lakrat sympathetically. Luin nodded, and then cringed at some hidden and unknown pain. Rouchea wondered if it was from Rza's healing.

"**T**he Tredjodors are expanding in Ivalice, too, and Ilias is a majour manufacturer of magicite," he told them, "It's just one of the many cities they've overcome."

**R**ouchea frowned. He was still concerned about the Tredjodors' acts in the Boundaries, and this didn't explain it any more than he'd wished, but he decided to allow Luin to spare his breath for important things. It was Rouchea's grim conviction that Luin wouldn't make it, but he wasn't about to tell Rza that.

"**P**lease, do not worry about my wounds," he told Rza without looking at her. He was having trouble breathing already and Rza looked up, offended, the white light fading from her hands in loss of concentration. She was about to protest, knowing the same as Rouchea did. "I must ask my last wish of you."

**R**za tried to ask him not to talk like that, but he shook his head solemnly.

"**I** beg of you, deliver this message to St. Jude's faction leader. They must not allow the Tredjodors to overtake them. If they let it be so, the Ilias Empire believes it will be the beginning of a massive, orchestrated commandeering of Ivalice and her boundaries."

**T**he message hit Rouchea like a fist in his stomach. He had been wrong in assuming that there wasn't an under plot to their erratic actions.

"**I** don't understand," Rouchea interrupted Lakrat and his question, "Why is taking all of the Boundaries' small towns going to help in some big scheme of theirs?" He couldn't help be irritated. He'd been wrong, and that could have led to downfall of his peers. But the prince didn't recognise it.

"**T**he Tredjodors are capturing all trade and productivity towns in an attempt to make it so factions like ours can resist. If the Tredjodors gain control over all trades, we cannot get supplies and weapons from them. We would effectively be diminished."

**R**ouchea wished he didn't have to know it, but it was true. All the majour iron and gold cities and barter towns had been overcome by the Tredjodors. They were so tactical, even the country of Ivalice didn't notice it at first, and it seemed now too late. The prince ached again, and Rza ignored his wishes and again began to attempt to heal him.

**L**akrat began his question again, "What if the faction leader doesn't believe us? We're young, after all. He may not trust us."

**T**he prince laughed and then tried to stifle it because it seemed to hurt him. "Any message from the Black Faction would be trusted. But in case not, you can tell him that Amoran help is being planned to arrive if they can resist the Tredjodors long enough."

**R**ouchea concentrated. If the Reign of Amora could get their fast enough, they would probably not have any trouble overcoming the Tredjodors. Already, the Reign of Amora had been taking care of a large amount of Tredjodorian captures. It was a wonder why they didn't seem to want to help the Amalgamated Ivalice Boundaries, but Rouchea just assumed that they thought the Black Faction was enough for them.

**B**efore much else was shared, the small stone room was suddenly come in upon as the Tredjodors barged through the wooden door and began to aim their swords at them all. Luin told them to run, and they escaped through a back door, unsure if Luin was going to be okay. Their only faith in his survival lay in the fact that the Tredjodors had captured him for the reason of his royalty and intended on him living.

**T**redjodorian soldiers chased after them, using the stolen magicite to aim spells at their backs.

**But before that...** Rouchea and Lakrat ran straight into the fighting of the anti-war members and Tredjodors, claiming up the prize of victory in their favour. They were assaulted from every side constantly, but they tried to break through to find the single prisoner of war. Rouchea's blade came down hard on a Tredjodor's helmet, cracking the thin copper to the soldier's crown and knocking him out cold as blood flew in an arc around him. They rushed into the square and Lakrat was hit hard with another person running the opposite way. Lakrat and the other person flew to the ground, but Rouchea recognised her.

"**R**za!!!"

**S**he looked up surprised, and she appeared so different to both Lakrat and Rouchea. Her hair had become longer and it was darker. She looked far less innocent, as well, dressed in what appeared to be monk's clothing. She had looked angry at first, but now she looked relieved. Lakrat and Rza stood up and they all began speaking at once.

"**W**hat are you doing here?" she asked them, incredulous.

"**W**e're in the Black Faction! Our mission is here!" Lakrat nearly shouted.

"**B**lack Faction!?" Rza asked, amazed, "Oh, I'm so glad you boys didn't join the army!"

"**A**re you, you know... okay, Rza?" Rouchea asked sensitively.

**S**he smiled softly, saying, "I'm better than I was, if that's what you mean."

"**I** hate to be the burden of annoyance," Lakrat started, "but we sort of have a little war going on around us."

**T**hey looked around and noticed that a group Tredjodors were advancing on them, and they ran. They yelled to each other as they trailed down the stone roads.

"**W**hy are you here, Rza?!" Lakrat yelled, and jumped over an overturned barrel, almost slipping on the water that used to be in it.

"**I**'m in a clan, and we happened by this place!" she told them.

"**W**hat's a clan?" Rouchea asked, trying not to trod on the fallen bodies that occasionally lay in the way.

"**W**e work together to get things done! It made me so happy to hear you two were in a clan, also!"

"**T**he Black Faction isn't a clan!" Lakrat responded, but Rza seemed taken back by it, as though being in a clan was a bad thing.

"**Y**ou should join my clan. We're anti-war, too!"

"**L**akrat, the prisoner!" Rouchea reminded him, and almost stopped dead when he thought he heard someone yelling. They skidded to a halt beyond him and followed him when he went into an alleyway. They didn't hear anything, but Rouchea told them to wait. A few seconds later, a young person's voice came from behind a wooden door, crying, "I'm hurt!"

**But before that...** Black Down had arisen early enough to be at the small city before the Tredjodors had even gathered around it. It was such a small little city with an almost moat-like stream encasing it. Not too many people were out just yet; mostly the business people with a large load of orders or merchandise. They were planning it from when the sun came up, but they still felt nervous. They continued to ask Rouchea questions, and allowing Lakrat to answer them, even though they knew it all and seemed confident the night before. The Black Down members seemed tired, but with an edge of alertness gnawing at them every time they saw the city. Lakrat and Rouchea mostly talked about the campsite, to avoid any confrontation about Lakrat's belief and a conspiracy and Rouchea's disbelief in it.

"**T**his fire is too small..." Lakrat said, and a young man in black got up in a hurry and ran off to the field to find freed wood. They walked through the others, who came to attention as though they were the leaders of a tough organisation. They told the boys to make extra breakfast, as they knew it would be a long day. They finally stopped near the edge of their camp, and stooped inside a tent to break from their duty. When Lakrat kneeled, he laughed.

"**D**id you see their faces? They were totally into the subordinate thing there."

"**W**hy are you so cruel?" Rouchea asked, jokingly.

**H**e began to mock a person of responsibility, "I'm the boss, do as I say! Cook some food, get some wood, shine my shoes!" Rouchea laughed at Lakrat's antics, and didn't notice the commotion outside. He figured it for the others laughing at Lakrat's silliness, too.

**S**uddenly serious, Lakrat told Rouchea, "I feel like we're in the wrong place at the wrong time... Like as if us being here could be a bad thing."

"**N**o worse than us _not_ being here," Rouchea reminded him, fiddling with the shade strap on the tent wall.

"**M**aybe," Lakrat reluctantly agreed, "But didn't you think the same as I yesterday?"

**R**ouchea was about to roll his eyes when he noticed that it was quite quiet outside the tent.

"**D**o you hear that?" he asked Lakrat, who said no, and suddenly Lakrat understood his point. They rushed outside the tent to see everything still as it was, but with none of the Black Down members. The fire burned, the plates still contained food, and the tents still stood. They ran to the clearing overlooking the city, and they saw Black Down running towards the water, the Tredjodors already inside.

"**O**h no!!" Lakrat yelled, bursting down the hill at a high speed. Rouchea was a little surprised: he hadn't imagined that those boys would take off like that, that they would consult Rouchea and Lakrat first. He smiled thinking they didn't believe them to be leaders at all. He followed after Lakrat over the babbling stream and onto the stony ground. They looked around for the other Black Down members, but they had dispersed so well.

"**I** wish we could've given them some orders..." Rouchea said, feeling left out.

"**W**e're not their leaders, it's okay," Lakrat assured him, and then spotted some of the anti-war faction members and the Tredjodors fighting in the square. The bolted forward with the conviction that they weren't going to lose anyone to-day, small or large, smart or incompetent, that even a dying prince would somehow be saved.

**E**ven though it was obvious that the Tredjodors were a cruel people and didn't seem to care.


End file.
